


How to Sleep

by sea_murai



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Inferred sleep paralysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29724426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sea_murai/pseuds/sea_murai
Summary: She was sure there was a word for it; she’d heard it before from this sweet Brazilian neighbour she had once. Saudade. A nostalgic word to describe the longing for something - or someone - that was found, loved and then lost, perhaps never to be found again. A word carrying so much meaning in so little, and its weight could never truly be translated to the English language - or any language that isn’t Portuguese, really.To an extent, she understood what the word meant when she thought of all she lost along her life - her childhood in Italy, Alessi, Jackie - and though she missed them, she had learnt to come to terms with their passing.But she could never come to terms with losing him. She wouldn’t.V has a bad dream, but Johnny's right there to comfort her.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/Female V, Johnny Silverhand/V
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	How to Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> I took a pretty but kind of melancholic [pic](https://sea-murai.tumblr.com/post/644141297837441024/i-will-always-love-you-ill-love-you-forever-even) of V wearing Johnny's arm and it inspired me to write this.
> 
> If allusions to sleep paralysis is something that will cause a negative reaction on you, please feel free not to read this. 
> 
> As always, this is based on my V OC.
> 
> Title is after How To Sleep by EDEN. Hope you all enjoy this <3

V didn’t think she would ever feel this way again.

She thought she was done with it; the soul-crushing emptiness that sinks onto her chest with the weight of a thousand rocks, forcing all oxygen out of her lungs until she can’t breathe; that uses its elongated fingers to tie her stomach into hard knots and to constrict her throat until all she can vocalize are desperate gasps and forgotten pleas for salvation. That emptiness that possesses a silence so loud it leaves her disoriented and dizzy, with no indication whatsoever of what path she should follow, of who she should look for, of who she was.

Yet there it is again. Crushing her bones, heart, mind and soul beneath its steel boots and heavy hand; mercilessly stealing her sense of reality and identity, leaving her to hopelessly attempt to mend the gaping black hole in her chest; playing a melody of thunderous silence that drove her one step closer to madness with each passing second. 

She is sure there is a word for it; she’d heard it before from this sweet Brazilian neighbour she had once. _Saudade_. A nostalgic word to describe the longing for something — or someone — that was found, loved and then lost, perhaps never to be found again. A word carrying so much meaning in so little, and its weight could never truly be translated to the English language — or any language that isn’t Portuguese, really. 

To an extent, she understood what the word meant when she thought of all she lost along her life — her childhood in Italy, her nonna's homemade bombolonis, Alessi, Jackie — and though she missed them, she had learnt to come to terms with their passing.

But she could never come to terms with losing _him_. She _wouldn’t._

And now, the only word that can summarise the gut-wrenching feeling that had allocated itself inside her entire being was _saudade_. She understands its meaning in a profound, complex level that she didn’t before; the kind that only having a piece of your soul torn away from your body can teach.

It’s empty, and at the same time, it’s everything.

It lingers when her eyes flutter open.

Heavy lungs weigh her down like she’s swallowed the entire Pacific ocean, leaving a bitter taste on her tongue; her limbs, frozen by void and heavier than concrete, tingle uncomfortably, all the day down to the tips of her nails; her constricted throat leaves little room for breathing, and her mind is completely blank, leaving her solely to feel and not to think.

She can’t move, but she can see shadows dancing in her vision, whispering things she cannot make out.

But then the shadows dissipate, and she finally notices.

A silver hand under her own — a real one, not an illusion provided by a hologram —, cradling her palm like it’s made of porcelain and could break with even the slightest of touches from anything else. A warm arm wrapped securely around her waist, keeping her close to warmth and the scent of cigarettes, cologne and leather. There's a whiff of the cherry flavoured vape she smokes in the air too. 

Strands of dark hair mixed with her own on the pillow, a few shades darker than his but imperceptible under the dim lighting of her apartment. 

V can't move, but she can see _him._

She isn’t sure if he is real or if he is a mere product of her vivid imagination. The emptiness that threatens to consume her blends in with the shadows of the room, creating a chaotic painting she can’t drift her eyes from.

She tries to exhale, but it stutters on its way out of her heavy lungs and closes her throat clumsily. 

Her fingers twitch over his hand, and two small, lonely tears make their way from the silver of her eyes down her cheeks. 

Then, his silver fingers move, closing around her own. The arm wrapped around her waist shift with his body, bringing her small figure impossibly close to his lean and strong one. Kisses are pressed to her forehead, nose and cheeks. Words of comfort and love are whispered against her skin.

‘Shhh, he gently hushes her. ‘I’m right here, Via. You just had a bad dream.’

Johnny’s warm, gentle touches and soothing voice slowly fill in the screaming void and dissipated the shadows that clung to the walls. His familiar scent flood her senses, aiding in slowly giving her back control of her own body. 

The slight twitch of her fingers escalate into a slow, hesitant curl of digits; her legs and arms, once numb and heavy, leisurely regain movement. The blinking of her eyes switch from fast and alarmed to a gentle and calm flutter of her long, dark eyelashes against her skin.

His hand move from her back to her hair, running slim, long fingers through her strands of black hair comfortingly. His lips never stop their melody of consolation, grounding her into the reality that seconds before threatened to slip from her grasp.

When her body awakens enough to give her complete control of her arms back, she wraps them around his neck. Her face finds solace in the familiar spot that is the crook of his neck, wetting his soft skin with the few tears that she spilt. A whimper escapes her throat, and her breathing continues to leave her lungs in shaky, stuttering puffs of air.

‘Come on, breathe with me.’

Johnny counts aloud for her, helping her breathe in for four seconds, hold it for seven and slowly exhale for eight, then repeat.

V follows his instructions and focuses her ears on the beating of his heart to even out her own. Eventually, her own heart slows and her breathing regains a normal pace. The whimpers stuck in her throat die until she is silent, and the tears that climb down her cheeks are running scarce.

‘I ain’t goin’ anywhere, sweetheart. That’s a promise’.

She clings to his words with her mind, soul and body, like she relies on them to live — in a way, she does. Her arms squeezed around his neck a little tighter, a reminder that now he is _real_ and he isn’t leaving; that she doesn’t have to worry about waking up one day to nothingness.

The emptiness is gone, and as long as she has him, it will stay away.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://sea-murai.tumblr.com)


End file.
